by Levi Jacobs
“Yes,” Nauro said simply. “And I have been patient in my offer, but your grace period is over. More shamans will come, with greater skill than Odril’s. Eventually, the archrevenants will come too. If you don’t start tutelage now, there is little hope you can save yourself.”
There was the offer. But Tai had spent too long scraping coins on the streets not to know he had power here too. “Seems like your grace period is over too. I imagine many will come seeking my talent, once they realize thralling me will not work. I will likely have my choice of who to study with. Some who will be more pliable than you have been.”
“I have been duly pliable!” Nauro growled, then took a deep breath. He continued in a more even tone. “You do not know how this usually happens, how apprentices usually beg to begin real tutelage, so I will give you leeway. But you cannot deny I have done nothing but help you and give you time, living out here in this wasteland when there are important things going on right now elsewhere, waiting for you to see the urgency of the situation.”
Tai relaxed some inside, seeing how much it meant to Nauro. He raised an eyebrow. “You did sic Naveinya on me.”
“Yes, I did. I tried to force the matter, as I thought your death not far off. You accomplished the impossible once. Do not expect to do it again.”
“You were wrong, you know,” Tai said. “Semeca was not archrevenant of fatewalkers, as you told me. She ruled the mindseyes.”
“Yes,” Nauro said, looking back to the fire. “I realized my mistake when you released her power. Our knowledge is not complete, even now. Or especially now.” He seemed to refocus. “But it is still leagues beyond what you know. You need me, Tai.”
“As you need me,” he answered, “or you would not be waiting out here in the cold, hoping that I came by. So let me propose a different agreement, something that might work for both of us.”
Nauro’s knuckles tightened on his cup, but he nodded.
“I will study under you. But you will stay with me, go where I go, and if we fight it will be on my terms. I am not interested in the power you seek. I will fight more archrevenants if need be, but what I care about is keeping my friends safe.”
“And if that safety involves leaving? Involves fighting the gods themselves? Will you refuse the power they offer?”
“The question you are asking,” Tai said, meeting the man’s cool gaze, “is whether I will refuse you their power. I know it’s what you seek.”
Nauro inclined his head. “Fair enough, yes. I am not donating my time to you in the hopes that you live a long and prosperous life, or that your little rebellion becomes the next Councilate. If we do fight more archrevenants, or shamans who have gathered some power of their own, I will need my share of the rewards.”
Tai did not miss the change in tone. Nauro was close to an agreement, an agreement Tai desperately needed, all question of the man’s mad quest for power aside. If Odril was only a low-powered ninespear and he nearly bested Ayugen’s best two fighters in combat, he needed to know how. To make defenses against it. Learn how to attack with it. Not to mention the archrevenants. “And you will have them. I take it you expect we will be facing more archrevenants at some point?”
Nauro inclined his head. “I would not be so motivated to agree to this otherwise. But your potential demands its own exceptions. I will accept your terms, Tai Kulga of Ayugen, if you will in matters of shamanic wisdom and practice take me as your master and agree not to leave my cell until such time as we are both satisfied with your power.”
“Agreed,” Tai said, the moment feeling too weighty for a sweltered tent in the middle of nowhere. “Do we lock arms now? Or go through some other ritual?”
“Normally, yes, there is a formal process, and I would attach a new revenant to you. But given our history,” he said with a slight smile, “perhaps a simpler ceremony will suffice.” He held up a hand, fingers spread wide. “To defeat death.”
He showed Tai how to pierce the five fingers with four of his own, forming nine. “To overcome life,” Tai said, wondering again what he’d gotten himself into.
They met eyes, Nauro’s deadly serious. “The gods must die.”
Apostate’s Pilgrimage – Coming May 10th, 2019
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Acknowledgements
This book wouldn’t be what it is without so many people—first of all the Boulder Speculative Fiction Writer’s Workshop and Highlands Ranch Fiction Writers, for reading early drafts and being the best editors money can’t buy. For Nathan Pieplow in particular, for reading this and Beggar’s Rebellion in the middle of Africa and providing me stellar edits without asking anything in return. I owe you! For David Gaughran and Brandon Sanderson, for being my indie pub and epic fantasy muses, respectively, and putting so much quality information out there for free. Hope this book does you proud.
To the fruit lovers of North Dakota and eastern Montana, for making this all possible. You had no idea how fruity I could get.
To Bri and Mac, neither of whom want me to leave in the morning to go write, and are always waiting with smiles when I get back. Thank you. Hopefully someday this will be the only leaving I have to do.
And finally, to you. That you got this far means you probably liked the book, and that means the world to me. As long as you keep reading, I’ll keep writing.
Deal?
Levi Jacobs, Denver Colorado, March 2019
